


Talking Body

by kingmalkin



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Blow Jobs, Clubbing, Grinding, M/M, Public Blow Jobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-06
Updated: 2015-04-06
Packaged: 2018-03-21 11:53:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3691296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kingmalkin/pseuds/kingmalkin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Before the 2015 All-Star Game, Sidney Crosby and Evgeni Malkin had been best friends. That’s all they had been-- best friends. Nothing more. During the time off for the ASG, they decide to spend more time together instead of going back home. They go clubbing. Sidney hears a song that turns him on and Geno looks fucking amazing when he dances.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Talking Body

**Author's Note:**

> In a universe where Sidney fakes his injury just because he’s whiny and doesn’t want to go.

Sidney’s jeans are tight. They are squeezing his thighs, cutting off the circulation. He doesn’t like skinny jeans but Geno does. Geno likes skinny jeans. _Sid ass look good in skinny jeans._  


He told him to wear them and Sidney hadn’t even questioned it. Listening to Geno is second nature. He’s questioning it now that his balls feel like they’re about to pop.  


Geno sits beside him, big hands lax on the wheel. The gold chain around his throat glints from the streetlights. Sid likes the way his hair curls cow-licks around his ears and down his neck and the way his lips fall open when he’s relaxed.  


“Is exciting, yes?” Geno’s head jerks towards Sid but he doesn't take his eyes off the road.  


Sidney nods lazily. He is lying, of course. Sid’s idea of exciting isn't clubbing but Geno wants to do something different. His voice still rings in Sid’s ears. _Different._ “It’s...different…” The word slips off his tongue and it feels foreign, tastes bittersweet.  


“Good different, yuh?” Geno grunts. The car rolls to a stop and red light washes Geno’s face. It makes his skin look softer. He wears a goofy grin, teeth and all. Sid’s hand tightens around his knee.  


His hesitation ushers a frown from Geno, replacing the smile with ease. Sidney rushes to answer, attempting to console the sad auburn in his teammate’s eyes, “Of course, it’s good different, Geno.” _Anything different with you is good._  


The relief is instant as if Sidney’s words are cold water to a burn. Geno’s broad shoulders slip back and his grip slackens. His knuckles are white and his head bobs with happiness.  


“Only want Sid to be happy. Feel good,” Geno lays his hand on top of Sid’s, his calloused fingers spreading heat. Sid’s stomach twists and he fights the urge to hold his hand.  


“I _am_ happy, Geno. Don’t worry about me,” Sid mumbles and twitches his hand but immediately regrets it, for a breath of cool air kisses his skin. He looks down to find Geno’s hand is no longer there but back on the wheel. He itches to grab it and press his lips to the veins in his wrist but he feels sick. He focuses on the river outside his window and feels his heart plummet when he can’t remember the name. All he can think about is Geno’s damn wrist. _God._  


Sid hears the club before he sees it. It is loud and colorful and flashing. There are women in taut dresses and men with V-neck t-shirts. Sid doesn’t even know that these kind of men live in Pittsburgh. They look like they flew in from Florida the night before. Sid leans against the cool glass of the window. He feels so sick.  


He’s suddenly very aware that the car has stopped moving and when he looks to Geno, his teammate has his big brown eyes focused on him. Sid drowns himself in them, swimming in suffocating waves of concern and warmth. He digs his fingernails into his knee, feeling his skin through his jeans.  


“Sid?” Geno’s voice drags Sid back to shore; he gasps and claws at the sand.  


“Mmm?” Sid locks gazes with his teammate. He realizes that Geno’s hand is on his again. He turns his own hand up and skates his fingers across his wrist, tracing the outlines of his veins. He doesn’t feel so sick anymore.  


Geno starts shaking his head. “We not do if you not feel good,” His hand leaves Sidney’s and rests on the gear shift, full lips and raised eyebrows expectant. “We go home and do something else,” His tongue slides along his lower lip. Sid wishes that it was his throat instead. His fingers curl into a fist.  


“No, Geno. That’s okay. I’m alright, I swear. We can go in. It’ll be fun,” He flashes his friend a reassuring grin.  


“Okay, but Sid tell me if anything wrong, okay?”  


Sidney nods and pats Geno’s hand on the gear shift. “Definitely, G. You’ll be the first to know,” He winks at him. After witnessing Geno’s tongue, he’s feeling playful, a little flirty, certainly not sick anymore.  


The two climb out of the car and are lucky not to be recognized. Sidney doubts anyone in here would be a Penguins fan, much less a hockey fan. Geno heads straight for the bar and Sid follows like a lost puppy, subconsciously reaching out for Geno’s bear paw of a hand to hold. He’s been to parties before albeit with people he knew. But It’s just him, Geno, and a club full of strangers with ear-bleeding music.  


Geno leans against the bar and cocks his hip out, supporting his weight with his elbow. His fingers are already gripping a glass of some kind of alcohol. “Drink, Sid?” He offers but Sidney shakes his head. He’s not that big of a drinker.  


Geno shrugs _suit yourself_ and downs the drink without another broken word. He tips forward and finds Sid’s ear with his lips. Sid snatches Geno’s wrist and holds it tightly as his best friend’s heated breath rolls down his neck into the crook of his collarbone. “I go dance,” He whispers and wiggles out of Sidney’s grip, ducking into the crowd.  


Sidney remains at the bar as if he is glued to it. He grabs Evgeni’s glass so that he doesn’t look too out of place and sighs through his teeth. The glass is warm from his friend’s touch. When he glances over his shoulder, he seeks Geno out in the crowd. The man is spotted easily, his massive size causing him to tower above the others he dances with. Sidney is not aware of the music until the chorus.  


_Now if we’re talking body, you’ve got a perfect one_ \- Sid’s eyes rake over Geno’s form, soaking in his broad shoulders, the inward curve of the small of his back, the way his jeans hug his ass and thighs. Geno’s eyes are closed as he sways methodically to the music and Sidney is surprised at how amazing of a dancer he is.  


- _so put it on me, swear it won’t take you long_ \- He’s moving through the crowd, knocking bodies with strangers. He reaches Geno and leans into him, placing his hands on his hips. He brings Geno’s pelvis to his and gathers the fabric of his t-shirt in his fingers. Geno gazes down at him with lustful eyes and parted lips.  


- _if you love me right, we fuck for life, on and on and on_ \- Sid rolls his hips into Geno’s, feeling the outline of his dick in his very skinny jeans and Sid is suddenly thankful for them. One hand captures Geno’s and lifts it to Sid’s lips. He presses his mouth to his wrist multiple times before drawing his tongue across his veins. He still can’t remember the name of the river.  


Geno pulls his hand away but uses it to cup Sidney’s face, tilting it up towards his. He doesn’t waste a second and closes the space between them. Lips meet lips, breath mingles with breath, Sidney is drowning again. Geno’s hands fall from his face and glide underneath his shirt, his warm palms leaving imprints on his skin. Sid tilts his head back to separate the kiss and Geno takes this as an opportunity to trace lines on his throat with his tongue.  


They can barely make it out of the club and to the car before their hands are all over each other. Despite Geno's massive size, he is gentle when he touches Sid, his hands crawling under his shirt and across his flesh. They trip into the car, somehow finding their way into a comfortable position in the front passenger seat. Sid is straddling Geno's hips with his thighs and Geno's fingers are tangled in his hair; the others are splayed out across his chest.  


"I feel heart," Geno murmurs, lilted English heavy with breath. He stares at Sidney's chest where his heart is and Sid can feel himself slipping again. Geno lifts his chin and focuses his gaze onto Sid. They linger, sharing breath, just holding each other. Sid forgot what it's like to be held.  


"I'm score on Sid tonight," Geno blurts and laughter bubbles from his lips. Sidney snorts and leans his forehead against Geno's, his fingers bundling up his shirt on top of his pecs.  


"Not before I score on you," Sidney whispers, kissing his teammate's nose. He pulls back and struggles to get down on his knees. He hits his elbows a few times, his funny bone once, but successfully ends up with his head between Geno's legs. There's a bit more struggling and grunting before Geno's pants are bundling at his ankles.  


Sidney's palms push against his legs to spread before he places small and tender kisses on his V-Line, his happy trail, underneath his belly button. He pulls his erected cock from his underwear, snapping the elastic strap to tease, and kisses it on the head. His stomach flips when he hears a soft gasp from Geno. Looking up, he sees Geno’s eyes are half-lidded and swamped with lust. He grunts and nods his head, urging Sid to keep going, twining his fingers in Sid’s hair.  


Sidney engulfs Geno slowly, his lips slipping down his shaft until they pillow against his balls. He listens to Geno suck in a breath and feels his grip in his hair tighten. Sid pumps his mouth up and down his length, heat pooling in his stomach with every noise that comes out of Geno’s mouth. He trails a tongue up the underside of his shaft while Geno’s free hand compresses against the car’s steamed window. He consumes the entirety of Geno a second time before releasing him with an obscene pop. Geno yelps.  


His hands find Sidney’s jawline and he pulls him up, meeting him halfway with his lips. His tongue slithers into Sidney’s mouth and explores every corner it can. Geno’s hand finds his chest again as if it’s looking for his heart. He leans further into him.  


“Come sit on lap. I’m want to repay you,” Geno uses his free hand to pat his naked thigh, an offering to Sidney which he obliges to.  


Sid settles on top of Geno, his erection bulging in his pants and rubbing against Geno’s. His teammate palms it through his jeans and he feels himself lose breath already. Sid kneads his fingers into Geno’s pecs, almost whining, as he leans against his forehead. He hasn’t been touched like this in ages and Geno is so gentle.  


Evgeni doesn’t waste much time when he notices how eager Sidney is and helps the man out of his jeans. The space is cramped and it takes them a bit but by the time Sid straddles Geno’s lap again, his pants are draped across the gear shift, his cock resting against Zhenya’s stomach. The Russian’s hand takes his length and begins to pump while Sid returns the favor.  


Sidney can’t help but buck into Geno’s hand, his body quivering underneath his touch. Geno’s tender fingers massage at his head, at his shaft, at his balls and when Sidney casts a glance in his direction, his stomach lurches, the heat inside of him bundling up. Geno is all breath, parted lips and half-lidded eyes, his cowlicked hair damp from his sweat. His cheeks are flushed and Sid can see the adoration in his eyes.  


He stretches forward and claws at Geno’s shirt. “G, I’m gonna come,” He whispers, his fingers fumbling at his buttons. “I want to-” He’s cut off when Evgeni’s free hand takes control, unbuttoning his shirt with ease and revealing the washboard surface of his stomach.  


“Come on me,” Geno growls and Sidney gasps, his come stripping down his teammate’s stomach. As he slumps forward, he feels Geno’s come splatter against his back. Geno swipes a finger down his abdomen and pops it into his mouth. Sidney can see his tongue swirling his come around his mouth before he swallows.  


“Taste?” Evgeni’s same finger gathers another line of come and Sid opens his mouth obediently. He sucks on Geno’s finger for a few lingering moments before Geno pulls back.  


They stare at each other, a lengthy silence passing between, until the bigger of the two starts laughing. Geno’s laughter is contagious and Sidney starts to giggle himself, cuddling into his partner. The Russian’s arms hug him closer, his fingers splaying out against his back. Sidney lifts his chin and Geno meets him halfway with a kiss.  


On the way home, Sidney traces his fingertips across the veins in Geno’s wrist as he stares out the window. He still can’t remember the river’s name but he doesn’t care.


End file.
